


Hands that Heal

by jenovasilver



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brother knows best, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Fluff, Guilt!fic, Hound of the Baskervilles, Hurt/Comfort, Jelly!Lock, Light Angst, M/M, Missing You, Wibble!Lock, changes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenovasilver/pseuds/jenovasilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After John is injured, Sherlock blames himself and has to accept that sometimes admitting one's true feelings aren't always bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands that Heal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrettySami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettySami/gifts).



> I wrote this for my friends who like Fluff...I don't mind teh Fluff and every once in a while, we all want the soft things. Enjoy! Thanks for the hits and kudos!

*********************

The violin did _nothing_ for him, normally playing it helped Sherlock think or soothed him but without John there it was rather pointless. The silence was eating away at him like a voracious little caterpillar making the nothing surrounding him much more _unbearable_. No, he was going to stay away, he was going to wait until morning light to see him again, just to see if he was okay, oh why did he blame himself? It was an accident, John was just plain unlucky, the flying bit of shrapnel could’ve nailed anyone but it got him, right in the shoulder nearly slicing his neck in the process. John was fine but then he became infected, the experimental drugs didn’t help much…the stress ate at his immune system so rapidly that he couldn’t have stave the infection.

He wouldn't have BECAME susceptible to infection if he wasn't exposed to the drugs. Which Sherlock exposed him to for an experiment...

The infection was HIS fault, if he didn't want to prove his point so badly. John would be here with him.

Sherlock spent days with John in the hospital, he was almost LIVING there, _nothing_ in Saint Bart’s was suddenly up to his standard for John’s care even though Mycroft ASSURED his little brother that John would get the best of everything. He almost threatened Sherlock with taking John to one of those fancy private care centers (Where Mycroft could control everything, _including_ Sherlock), some place ridiculously out of the military doctor’s pay grade (of course he wouldn’t pay but that wasn’t the point) and John refused, he liked St Bart’s fine but this was before the infection got worse.

The great thing was that despite his immune system being wrecked by the gas during their last case, John was a healthy man and within days the infection was subdued and he was resting peacefully as he recovered.

“Tea, Sherlock?” Mycroft suggested sitting in his flat, if Sherlock could throw him out he would but he honestly didn’t hear his older brother enter much less sit down. “Really Sherlock, he’s quite well, in fact, he’ll be well enough to leave in a day or so. Just be patient.” Sherlock immediately began to play his violin as raucously as possible in hopes to get his brother out of his flat but Mycroft was far too busy enjoying his little brother’s frustration in dealing with a sense of admitting loneliness. Which…he wasn’t going to do even though it was the most OBVIOUS tension in the room.

“Hmm? Yes of course, of course.” Sherlock said half listening, he was EAGER to have John home but at the same time, he wouldn’t be in any condition to work which is dreadfully boring. “I should go see him.”

“You _saw_ him 12 hours ago.”

“Well 12 hours ago is _still_ half a day, Mycroft.”

“Of course and half a day ago John was sleeping…I do have his care logs here.” Mycroft opened his PDA, “Let’s see, he had breakfast, poached egg with toast, light with a bit of jam and tea, he apparently didn’t like the jam so he didn’t eat the toast. And a young Nurse named Holly, changed his sheets and oh _look_ , she gave him a bath and stayed 15 minutes longer then normal.” The bow screeched on the strained strings bring a small grin on Mycroft’s thin lips, “Makes you wonder yes.”

“Coat.”

“Never took it off”

“Fine, don’t be here when I get back.” Sherlock left almost in a breeze.

It was almost as if the taxi was against Sherlock, traffic was choking and he decided to walk to St Bart’s instead, the good news was that he didn’t have to hear Mycroft’s voice and the cold London weather made each step to the hospital livelier in desperate need to get warm. It was way beyond visiting hours but Sherlock couldn’t give a shit about protocol, he knew how to get in the place without being caught.

 

************

 

John was barely awake, the medication made him a listless little thing and he flipped through the late night channels in a vain attempt to stay conscious. He REALLY wanted to leave the hospital, he missed eating decent food and his own collection of jams as the St Bart’s selection was nigh barely edible. He was in his own private room-complete with all the necessities a patent could want or need, it was actually a _beautiful_ room and the lovely bouquet of flowers from Ms Hudson and Lestrade help brightened the place from the pastels of the boring wallpaper and tiles.

And as nice as this room was and how grateful he was for Mycroft’s ‘generosity’, he wanted to go home so badly he was tempted to just walk out. The infection was out of him but he knew he was being kept for observation so he was going to be a good boy, still, he missed his flat, he missed the clutter, he missed Ms Hudson and more importantly....he missed Sherlock.

Despite Sherlock’s nearly HOURLY visits, they were never private, nurses and doctors walked in and out so there was not time for any real intimacy, (despite being IN a private room) John REALLY missed sleeping beside Sherlock or waking up to the man clinging him like a pale jellyfish, it was almost humorous. Sherlock, the Great Deductor, strong, quick, intelligent beyond comprehension, a bit odd and abrasive to others…was actually a somewhat a cuddler! He didn’t care about things like machismo and cared LESS if anyone knew it. John however, LOVED having this bit of knowledge to himself and possibly Mycroft….they REALLY need to sweep the flat when he’s well enough.

Eventually sleep reigning supreme on his will and John’s frequent yawns were a countdown to his downfall (Sleepfall?); the bed was comfortable enough, the pillows fluffy but the sterile smell of the hospital recycled air and whispers from the night staff made fully falling asleep not as easy as it looked.

John’s private door opened and Nurse Holly fluttered in with some snacks, a small tray containing two juice boxes, an apple with and a smile, she was a lovely girl with dark brown hair done up in a simple bun and green eyes that sparkled happily when John returned the smile back. Over the time of John’s recuperation, Holly and John talked about his blog which of course John was happy to chirp about for hours. Sherlock and John were becoming fast celebrities, something Sherlock didn’t pay attention too (or would admit) but John enjoyed it.

“So you have to tell me, can he REALLY do all that!?” Holly asked as she sat beside his bed and started peeling an apple, “Me and my girlfriends can’t believe that anyone can do that!”

“Well I didn’t think it was possible either until I first met him…read me like a book.”

“Is he like that with everyone?”

“Just about.” Sherlock said in the doorway with both John and Holly looking up surprised but only John knew he was capable of getting in and out of places, he also knew Sherlock was giving Holly a look of ‘Get the fuck out!’ under the guise of mildly pleasant smile.

“I-I…you can’t be here after hours!” Holly stammered and flushed red with every second glance looking at Sherlock; it was hard to stare at the man whose eyes were as light as the rest of him. Holmes was a hauntingly attractive man who-if he used his allure the way society would’ve _expected_ him too-would have a revolving door installed in his flat.

“After hours hmm? This is my usually time for work I hardly would call them ‘after hours’.” Sherlock rattled off and barely glanced more then 2 seconds at the young nurse, he studied the setting around him, the stark room lights were dimmed about 25%, the small tray of snacks had only one apple and two juice boxes. Intimately made for one to be the _feeder_ and the other the _feedee_ and of course John would be the latter, he looked like a wounded little puppy actually with the bandages on his shoulder and the IV in his arm, the night clothes were too baggy on him. Sherlock wasn’t fond of the unkemptness of John but this was out of his control, he hated not being in control..if he WAS in control he would have John in his flat.

But his need to HAVE control is kind of what got the man in here in the first place. The more Sherlock remembered that fact, the angrier he was becoming and WHY was the nurse STILL HERE!? Hasn’t she realized she’s not needed!? She _was_ a dull girl. John felt the barbs before they were about to appear, he had to ‘save’ her.

“Yes, well…um Holly, perhaps if you could.” Sherlock whipped his glance toward John before focusing on Holly, he knew what John was attempting to do.

“No, stay, you have questions no matter how pedantic they might be.”

“Sherlock. Don’t.”

“I…I…can you really read people’s lives even though you just met them?” Holly asked in a timid little squeak, Sherlock rolled his eyes and John braced for it…he put his head in his hands. Holly looked so eager and happy and John wanted to remember that face before the deconstruction.

Sherlock turned to her slowly; his eyes held no emotion and darted over body like pastel searchlights.

“Despite your ability to act and look like a woman in her early 20’s, you just celebrated your 32nd birthday two weeks ago as evident by the small gold bracelet you received from your best friend that you only wear occasionally because you’re not particularly fond of gold. As you find it to be gaudy and only wear it to appease her and secretly harbor a bit of jealously because she can afford the bracelet regardless of her nurse’s salary as you know isn’t enough to buy such a gift which means her husband brought it and she took credit for the gift. But of _course_ you _would_ know that because you’ve been having an affair with him for about a year and HE wanted to get the bracelet for YOU. So in actuality you’re not really wearing it for _her_ but for _him_ as he’s a practicing surgeon on call, which by the way you’re 5 minutes late for your scheduled snogging in the supplies closet.” Holly stood flabbergasted, her face turned blanche…she flustered trying to find the words to retort. “Oh yes, you should reconsider your goals on staying devoted to him, he’s currently having an affair with a patent..will that be all? Right? Goodbye then.”

“PISS OFF!” Holly threwback and stomped out in a huff, Sherlock wasn’t phased by the retort, in fact he didn’t even register it AS a retort…it reached his ears like static and he simply sat down beside John silently waiting for John to rub his face and look at him.

“Really Sherlock? _Really_ ?”

“You were interested in her?”

“Well I WAS before all that.” John sighed and looked at Sherlock, “So….what do you want?”

“That’s a dull question, you’re well enough already.”

“I know that but you know how hospitals are, don’t want to release a patient who’s not at least 97% healthy…lawsuits and all.” John reached for his juice box and sipped it, Sherlock watched his chapped lips…he’s not drinking enough water or the medication was drying him out. John licked his lips when he pulled the juice box away, “But I’m fine, really.” Sherlock held a empty cup, really annoyed at the ineptitude of Holly.

“I’ll get some ice.”

“No, no…I don’t really need any ice.”

“I’ll get it regardless.” Sherlock said in a hurry and left the room, John sat there perplexed at his exit but then he was always perplexed by a lot of Sherlock’s actions.

 

***************

Sherlock needed to think, he really was getting quite furious at himself and he needed to refocus, this is WHY he closed his emotions off! They got in the way of so many things, muddling up his normally sharp mind with things like regret, guilt, jealousy.

 

**Jealousy.**

 

Really, he had no real reason to BE jealous; John was always going out with a date if he was lucky enough to get one. That was their agreement, John wouldn’t interfere with Sherlock’s life and he vice versa…that did NOT stop them from sleeping together though, the whole act of getting jealous; Sherlock thought was beneath him. He _wasn’t_ a child anymore and thus shouldn’t be acting as such, a thought occurred to just apologize to Holly but she was already in the supply closet snogging, predictable, love was the most foolish of all the emotions as it can truly make one blind to even the most GLARING faults.

He _cared_ for John, deeply, TRULY, he cared for him more then his chemistry set which by his calculations was A LOT. He even did a scenario in his head on if John was trapped in a fire which would he save first, granted even though John was pretty damn smart and would obviously get _himself_ out. Still, he would save John first.

In fact if he had a ready list of people he would likely save in a fire above his chemistry set it would be: 1-John, 2-Ms Hudson, 3-Lestrade, 4-Chemistry Set, 5-Mycroft (Mycroft was special because he SERIOUSLY doubt Mycroft would put himself in a situation that NEEDED saving..)

So in theory…that would technically meant that he valued John above his chemistry set which would mean he _loved_ him…what ELSE could it mean?

A couple of nurse attendants were peering on him from across the check in desk, clearly giggling and whispering, remarking on how cute he was. No doubt they ALREADY knew what he said to Holly but Sherlock knew that there was no love lost, she had apparently developed a reputation.

Sherlock filled the cup with ice and returned to John’s room, one nurse walked to the door and almost blocked his path. Instinctively she took one glance at Sherlock’s face, knew that it was best to yield and opened the door, smart girl, _observant_ girl, there’s hope for humanity and so with that, Sherlock gave her a small soft look.

“You’re wasting your tears over him, don’t settle for mediocrity for the sake of having a mate and don’t offer him any favours. He’s jealous because you’re clearly advancing in your position to become a doctor and he wants you to set aside your future for him as he struggles. You have a brain, use them.” The nurse stared blankly at him as he walked into the room; she was mouthing the word of ‘How?’ and ‘Thank you.’ But Sherlock didn’t respond and she closed the door behind him with a determined face before wiping her eyes and walking away.

John was sipping on his second juice box and turned to Sherlock with the cup of ice thankful that Sherlock did heed him and happily reached for the cup for a ice chip, when he did he winced from the sharp pain. Sherlock felt it like it was his own and pulled the chair next to John, he took a small piece of ice and placed it to John’s lips. The act was surprisingly gentle and sweet…almost teenage but it wasn’t that John was _adverse_ to it, he accepted the kind gesture.

“You know..I can actually move my arm.”

“I know.”

“Are you blaming yourself for this?”

“No, it doesn’t alleviate a niggling sense of it regardless.”

“But you KNOW it’s really not your fault.” John said with a light laugh and placed his hand on Sherlock’s with the icechip, “I don’t blame you, I mean I _could_ blame you for scaring me with thumbs boiling on the stove. I was going to make tea.”

“I brought you a new kettle.”

“What happened to the old one.”

“I used it to boil eyeballs…it was an experiment.” John shook his head, well at least he got a new kettle. “The flat is so miserably dull, Ms Hudson misses you terribly.”

“You miss me too I gather!” John said jokingly, not expecting the answer.

“Every second.” Sherlock almost wasn’t sure the words were his, they came out automatically, weakly…barely audible and he was exposed. John's eyes were saucers now, the words lodged in his ears and Sherlock knew he slipped. He absolutely despised this feeling, seeing it as a weakness, it felt like he was admitting some deep dark secret that he kept guarded. He thought about it, this exposure to keen ears and Sherlock's heart felt heavy and light all at once, he was WRONG, he should’ve found a different method for the experimental drug, he should’ve asked, he _should’ve_ , _could’ve_ , **_would've_**.

That incident SHOULD be in the past, forgotten, shrugged off like a momentary transgression. Nothing in Sherlock's head made the logical deduction to ignore the guilt…to move _past_ it. But John WASN’T home, he _wasn’t_ in his arms, he _wasn’t_ in his bed, if he left the hospital now; he _wouldn’t_ be going home with John. Not for another day or so, ANOTHER day.

That day, was _too_ long, this guilt was _too_ heavy, this was a sudden crash unlike anything Sherlock felt. And that’s when his heart spoke for the first time BEFORE his mind. Where no amount of logic helped him, these were the words he NEEDED to say, “Forgive me.” Sherlock looked at John, the strength in his eyes shaken and glossy.

“Sherlock..”

“Forgive me John. _Please_.” John's eyes returned to their normal size and he didn’t stare in surprise anymore because this was the most honest he’s seen of Sherlock…so… _vulnerable_.

This wasn’t going to be a moment of smug superiority in John’s mind, this was a moment of profound admiration and _love_. This was the kind of emotional moment reserved for the daytime soaps or cheap romance novels, he even fooled with the idea of if this moment EVER happened how he should respond. There was no preparation, nothing…

Sherlock’s lips pressed upon John’s hand, the trembling kiss then the small wet drops of tears on the doctor's fingers and still, John did not seemed surprised. He moved his free hand while he ignored the pain and gently brushed back the detective’s black locks to kiss his forehead and then the top of his head.

Over and over Sherlock said it and over and over John gave him the same answer.

**_Forgive me_ **

**_Always_ **

When Sherlock fell asleep, John silently watched him until his eyes finally closed...their hands still clasped like each other's lifeline.

 

Mycroft watched the video on his mobile with a content smile; he never left his brother’s flat and sent orders for John’s release immediately for the next day. He was positive that the man would recover just fine under his brother’s newfound loving care and Mycroft should know, he’ll always keep watching him, always...just in case.

 

**END**


End file.
